


guilt complex

by poetrics



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Hand Jobs, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, i would join the fandom and produce this first thing, ken is messed up, poor kid, sorry mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 10:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5865352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetrics/pseuds/poetrics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe what he deserves is also what he wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	guilt complex

**Author's Note:**

> Daisuke is deliberately written OOC; there is a Reason for this.

It usually started with a slap. 

Ken's quiet gasp turned into a whimper as Daisuke yanked him close by his hair and kissed him roughly. It ended abruptly when the hand at his scalp hauled him away again. 

Daisuke _sneered_ , and Ken shuddered.

"And you thought you were so high and mighty, Mister Digimon Emperor," he said with a hard edge to his voice that Ken had never heard before. "You're not all that."

Ken couldn't breathe properly to formulate a response so Daisuke narrowed his eyes and kissed him again. When he finally pulled away, Ken's breathing was ragged and he could hear his pulse in his ears. The fingers in his hair tightened, and he moaned. 

"Huh." Daisuke flexed his fingers again experimentally, to the same result. "You like this, don't you? And you like being told you're pathetic." Ken could only stare at him helplessly, mouth falling open. "You're nothing special." He shoved Ken to his knees by his hair, and his pained cry quickly turned into a whispered "Please."

"I could ask you to suck me off and you'd do it, wouldn't you?" Daisuke asked, mock tender as he traced Ken's jawline. Ken nodded eagerly, hopelessly, and wasn't prepared for the quick slap to his cheek. "Well I'm not going to. I don't think I want your mouth on me."

The first hot tears sprang to Ken's eyes, but Daisuke was eyeing the tent in his pants derisively. "You get off to this that much, huh?" He made eye contact. "Gross."

Ken's response was a strangled groan as Daisuke nudged between his legs with his boot.

"Turn around," he ordered suddenly, "and take your pants off. Your shirt, too." Ken hurried to obey, and his bare skin crawled with the sensation of a cold, unimpressed stare. Then he waited.

A warm, smooth hand- of course it was smooth, he always wore those goddamn gloves- grazed his side to reach around and wrap around his dick.

Everything turned into a bit of a blur.

Daisuke's other hand was in his hair, then it was gripping his hip hard enough to bruise, then wrapping around his neck, then dragging nails roughly down his side- and all the time, that warm hand working him over roughly and a cruel, muttered litany in his ear:

"You don't even deserve this. You're disgusting. You deserve all the pain in the world for what you did but you'd _like_ it. You're worthless." Then, "You're so fucked up."

Ken came with a choked sob, collapsing onto his bed in a sweaty, shivering heap.

There were tear tracks on his face that soaked into his pillow as he let reality bleed back in. After several long moments of collecting himself, he got a tissue from beside his bed and methodically wiped his hand clean, then rolled onto his back. His voice was shaky and small in the darkness. 

"I'm so fucked up."


End file.
